Rinse
by sohhkb
Summary: A short story inspired by "Rinse" to cure writer's block, probably a one-shot.


_Partly inspired by "Rinse" (Vanessa Carlton) and partly inspired by "Both Sides Now" (Joni Mitchell). I don't know why._ _ I wrote this in under an hour, it's just an idea I ran with for fun._

**Rinse  
**

"Drink is the curse of the working class," Scarlett said aloud to herself as she poured another glass. She couldn't remember where she'd heard that saying- she couldn't remember much of anything at the moment- and that's how she liked it.

Scarlett rested her head on her hands. She did not know what day it was, or the time of the day. The curtains were drawn tightly closed around the windows and the lanterns in the room cast eerie shadows on the walls.

Vaguely, she wondered if she had eaten anything lately.

Scarlett looked up and peered through puffy lids when her bedroom door opened.

"I let myself in," said Ashley Wilkes, stepping delicately into the room. "Your servants, they're…"

"I fired them. I think. Or maybe they just took the day off." Scarlett beckoned him further into the room. Her arm felt like lead and her head was pounding.

"Scarlett," said Ashley, hesitating, "I shouldn't be in your bedroom- ever, much less without-"

"Who cares? My husband certainly doesn't." She did not want to think of Rhett.

"You're drunk!" exclaimed Ashley, as Scarlett hiccoughed. Ashley held the belief that women should not get drunk, Scarlett remembered, and this made her smile.

"Yes," agreed Scarlett. "I am drunk with love. Love drunk." She laughed at her absurdity and could not stop. Ashley closed the door behind him and came to the table.

"Melly's funeral was today, Scarlett. You didn't come." The look on his face sobered her.

"I forgot," she lied. She had remembered, and she hadn't cared that it was selfish of her not to be there. She knew Melly would understand. Melly always understood her. No, that was not true. Melly had thought Scarlett was a good person. Melly had trusted Scarlett to take care of Ashley and Beau, and Scarlett hadn't.

"You look so put together," she said to him, noticing his appearance for the first time. His eyes were dry and neither red nor puffy.

"Gentlemen do not cry in front of strangers," recited Ashley.

"I hate gentlemen," she told him. He did not reply and instead poured himself a drink. Once the glass was set down empty Ashley hung his head in his hands.

"My darling," he choked, and Scarlett knew he was not speaking to her. She watched his teardrops fall onto the glass tabletop and made no move to stop them or comfort him.

"What's the point of living?" he wondered aloud, sniffling into his sleeve.

"I don't know," she answered honestly. She reached for the decanter but Ashley's cold hand stopped her.

"Scarlett," he said raggedly through his fingers. "Scarlett. I need you." His other hand fell onto her knee and squeezed, but she felt nothing.

"Alright," said Scarlett.

--

He clung to her out of disparity, but not out of passion. His hot tears fell onto her face, and she wiped them away only to realize that they were her own. When he had finished and collapsed against her, she allowed herself to be held.

"I want Rhett," she said to him, out of nowhere.

" I want Melly," was his muffled reply.

"Yes," she acknowledged, "Melly too." And she rolled over and fell asleep.

When she woke, he was gone, and she was glad. The curtains had been opened by someone, probably Ashley, and sun streamed through, heating her face.

A revelation had come to her in her sleep. She rolled out of bed with a sudden urgency she had never felt. She poured herself a glass of brandy to ease her morning headache and pulled last night's gown over her head. Today she was going to say goodbye to Melly, and goodbye to Rhett.

--

The wind was high, and it blew the fresh soil from the grave onto her dress. There was no room for any more flowers on the grave, and Scarlett was glad she hadn't brought any.

Now that she was standing there, she did not know what to do or say. Perhaps she should pray. Scarlett bowed her head, but no words came to her.

"I love you," she finally said. "Really and truly. You were my only friend, Melly. I would do anything to be kind like you. I should have gone to your funeral." Out of impulse, she bent and kissed the cool headstone. "From now on, Melly, I'll try and keep my promises. I know I failed you."

"You were wrong about Rhett, Melly," she said as an afterthought. "He doesn't love me."

She had nothing else to say, and so she walked out of the graveyard and into town.

--

It was nearly dark before she reached her destination. She hadn't realized what a long walk it would be. Her feet ached, but she didn't care. The saloon was bustling with loud, drunk men. Above the saloon Belle's girls' laughing voices rang through the air. Scarlett ascended the stairs without hesitation.

"Brandy?" offered the girl who answered the door, as if it were perfectly natural for a woman to come and have a visit.

"Yes," said Scarlett, taking a glass from her. "Is Belle available?"


End file.
